Anna Scott Graham's Blog, page 5

Making good trouble

Sporting my Pride Flag, here I am after my walk. Waving that beautiful (if I say so myself) flag aloft always feels SO HEALING!

Joining hundreds of others locally (and perhaps up to a million Americans nationwide), I marched along the recently opened Humboldt Bay Trail South late yesterday afternoon. The breeze was pleasant, scattered sunshine a plus, but best of all were those who gathered in the spirit of Congressman John Lewis to protest the inhumane administration leading our nation.

Westernish view from the pedestrian bridge.

It's important to denote these rallies because they are happening! It's vital to denounce a corrupt government and lame-ass congress who won't do their jobs. It's meaningful to continue making noise, stirring good trouble. My right knee wasn't thrilled, a slow pace due to a dodgy meniscus, but every step felt liberating, honorable, and correct. 

A few of us were getting an early start.

I wasn't certain if I would make it out there, but after giving the chickens an hour in their run, I too required moments away from my usual element. And I hope for more marches along the Bay Trail both for its beauty and exposure to Highway 101 coming in and out of Eureka.

Another shot of the natural beauty; we only have one planet and can't waste a moment doing our part to save it AND DEMOCRACY for future generations.

These efforts MATTER! When wrong is allowed to proliferate, silence becomes complicity. I wasn't going to post about this, but a friend sent me a reminder about how important our peaceful endeavors are to publicize. So here I am, yakking about freedom, a Bay Trail, and the need for making good trouble. If you feel compelled today, make some of your own!

The comfort of routine

A sample from yesterday's work....

Reading through Book Three of The Hawk and being in the writing/revising zone....

Before I begin today's reading, I need to note how comforting it was yesterday to dive into a manuscript well known and steep myself not only in its realm, but the steadying manner of doing something related to writing. And how I didn't realize it would be so cathartic until dwelling there.

There is a place I've enjoyed for nearly twenty years, the haunts of authorhood, of piecing prose, of writing. Revisions are a part of it, prepping manuscripts, crafting the first dang draft itself; all those elements are necessary if one chooses (or is chosen, lol) to follow the muse as far as it wishes to take us. Dragging us at times, yes, but only because writers are fearful of being shot down, of not being able to write, of bad reviews, of losing the plot, of whatever dark clouds that mar our vision.

This of course can apply to artists spanning a wide range of talents. My talent is writing. And oh my goodness I am grateful to again dip my toes into those calming waters.

'Nuff said. Time to return to the early 1960s, where Lynne and Eric are realizing their most precious dream. Check out The Hawk if you're curious. Or soothe yourself in a fave pastime. And enjoy a beautiful day!

Why owning peace matters

I cannot be a channel of peace unless first I own it.

Sometimes I forget I'm semi-retired. Books to write, quilts to make, chickens to feed.... Chickens, at my age? I'm in my sixtieth year for crying out loud. What were we thinking when deciding to get baby chicks?

I'm tired, but not too weary to write a post. Just finished the dishes, not many, but our oatmeal bowls, my teapot, the stuff we need for the morning. Our kitchen is...old. Lol. No dishwasher, but a decent disposal. Big sinks. Lots of room to handwash all the dirty dishes we make. And thankfully we have an ancient concrete double sink in the equally aged laundry room to wash chick feeders and waterers. Hot water only, as the other two taps are hooked to the washer. For which I am also VERY GRATEFUL.

Despite feeling exhausted, peace has been flowing through me in healing waves. Despite needy chickens, a despotic president, and other world traumas (like what's happening to women in Afghanistan for instance), I have been feeling pretty damn calm. A few mornings ago I had more than a spate of tears for how broken is our planet, for my ill friend who has been in hospital for four weeks as well as her family trying to figure out what is wrong, and for other beloveds requiring prayers for healing and wholeness. I fully accept there will always be people in need, always some evil wrapping its gnarled fingers around the necks of unsuspecting humans. Yet balancing all that ugliness with the goodness of this life MATTERS SO VERY MUCH. I want my books to bring joy, relief, entertainment. I wish for my quilts to proffer warmth and love and wellness. I hope all my words, thoughts, and deeds are for the betterment of society. I desire to be a channel of peace.

I get no visits from Past or Future Me as this descends. All I have is my semi-retired self to offer, a body going on sixty years, a mind mostly together, my soul linked with love. Loving one another is paramount, because when we love each other, we treat each other with kindness, consideration, tenderness. We care for each other. All the crap that happens is because people won't or can't or refuse to care about one another, instead putting themselves first for whatever reason. I don't mean to boil this down to the essence, but what else is there? For if you truly love someone, their well-being will matter more than your own.

Things seem bleak right now, what with America's atrocious leadership, the appalling treatment of Palestinians, fires burning and people dying in floods, and wars raging all over this sphere. But as I said in an earlier paragraph, shite has always occurred. We can look to last century's two World Wars, then say we learned nothing from all that destruction. Why we learned nothing is for someone else to analyze. All I know is I cannot succumb to the horror, the terror, the futility. If I do that, my joy means nothing. Evil wins. I am here to love others, to do good, to be mindful, to channel peace. To raise chickens, write books, sew quilts. To craft blog posts that have little to do with books and quilts, because sometimes the things I enjoy doing aren't the focus. Love is the center. Peace is the result. I believe, and could be completely wrong, that if we demonstrate love and care, we spread peace. In loving each other, calm is the result.

The bird on the left does not like being held. Owl, on the right, is my most tame chick.

Two of our eight chickens like being held. A third accepts it. A fourth barely tolerates it. The other four won't let me hold them at all, and probably wouldn't even if I offered them meal worms. I respect those that decline my efforts, and lavish my attentions on the ones who permit me to scoop them into my palm. My tangible peace goes to those who wish for it, be they chickens or humans. As for those who choose to remain in chaos, I pray for peace to find them. Then I move on, because there's always something to do in this life. Sometimes it's as simple as sitting on the couch, admirning the waning afternoon sunshine, which here in Humboldt County is pretty darn terrific. Wherever you are today, I pray that peace finds you. And that you can share that peace with who or whatever comes your way.

Mid-year musings

Chicks we call The Clones as it's a little hard to tell them apart, lol.

Slow quilt stitching, baby chicks, and a new book distributor....

Where has the first half of 2025 gone? I thought this year would slog along, stuck in a lousy government situation, but no. 2025 is speeding past as quickly, if not more so, than the last ten years have zoomed by. Like sand slipping through my fingers is each day, as though I wake, then suddenly it's four p.m., time to do my stretches! I won't ponder that element of my existence, but I can mull over the changes to my life that certainly has NOT remained as it was previously.

Like chickens! LOL. The chicks have had outdoor time the last two days in what will eventually be their run. The first day they practically clung to one another for a good twenty minutes before finally stepping a few inches in their own directions. Today they seemed to recall the grass, the shade (oddly enough they weren't keen on going into the sun), and how much fun they had yesterday. We'll take them out again tomorrow afternoon, what with relatively warm summer temps forecast as a heat dome sits over the West Coast. We certainly didn't plan on becoming chicken tenders (my husband's joke) back in January!

The English paper piecing on this quilt is beautiful, but it's become so worn that I'm making a new top Kawandi-style. Note the patches, some of which I will be saving (and wishing I could save the actual EPP too).

As for quilting, I'm finally getting some traction on recovering (like literally recovering a sofa) a tattered EPP quilt that I did not make, but was a thrift store find years ago by my sister-in-law, who then gave the quilt to me, and I loved it so hard (and washed it so often) it is now falling apart and I'm tired of patching it hither and yon. Yes that's a long sentence, but getting around to working on this quilt has felt equally lengthy in coming, and it could be said that said quilt is merely another hand-stitching project thrown onto the already tall pile of EPP and Kawandi sewing, and you'd be right. Another long sentence, maybe it's a night for extended verbiage. It's late, already past nine p.m., but I'm in a mood to write, having snuck a little regular coffee into my usually decaf brew, plus a fair amount of jasmine tea with lunch, not that jasmine tea has heaps of caffeine, but you get the idea. Maybe unconsciously I knew I needed to be up past my usual bedtime to write this post. Or Future Me knew, and she slipped in the small scoop of regular java so I'd have barely enough wits to craft this entry.

Or something like that.

Anyway.... I barely touch my sewing machine anymore, other than flags I made in spring when I first started going to protests. I was kind of into a hand-stitching groove before 2025 began and that groove has continued, when I have time to stitch. Given the chicks, ahem, sewing time feels squeezed. Or sewing time during the day; stitching time at night remains SOLID. And for that I am VERY GRATEFUL.

Wildflowers that I had to capture because for as unpredictable and at times awful as life feels, beauty remains and we need to appreciate it.

As for Draft2Digital, I'm thankful. For still having a place to publish books. For free. I've solved the missing scene breaks issue. I'm waiting for a new vendor to fall into place (more about that once it's fallen into place). I'm feeling like D2D will be fine. FINE. Um, fine. Just use three hard carriage returns when moving onto a new scene, and all will be...fine.

(Especially since I did write a quarter of the next Enran book last month, WOO HOO!!)

There's more I could say, but I'm starting to yawn, so probably best to close this up. 2025 has been trying. Distressing at times. Yet I live my life doing what I love, creating stories and quilts, going to protests, and now raising chickens. CHICKENS! I truly never saw that coming.

Bright July skies

The breaks in the cloud are faint, but cannot be dismissed!

The sun isn't shining, a menacing marine layer keeping those of us along the North Coast aching in the gray. However to the southeast a break in the mundane is trying to emerge. This delicious light stirs me to write this post, because despite it being the high days of summer, our landscape has felt like the dark days of late autumn for too damn long.

A metaphor perhaps for all that blankets our current world scene? Sure! Big ugly legislation, miserable conditions everywhere we turn, natural disasters wreaking havoc, tender souls wrenched from reality; all these traumas want to strip our joy, leave us bereft. I woke to another gray morning, assuming the flat dull horizon would remain. However peeks of brightness remind me that all is not lost. Goodness prevails.

Does this mean the sun and blue sky are about to muscle in, shoving the dreariness aside? No. The marine layer is far too entrenched for that to occur AT THIS MOMENT IN TIME. But EVENTUALLY the marine layer will lose its persnickety strong will, rendering the gray obsolete. WHEN that will happen I don't know, October maybe? Or in an hour possibly. This darkness and cruelty will not last forever.

Never has the sun looked more beautiful. Or hopeful, might I add.

Okay, time to check the chicks. Do they notice the extra brightness today? Probably not, but I do. I notice, embrace it, and smile in thanksgiving. 

Not always about chickens

Those chicks are doing well, although coccidiosis remains an irritant, and I had to add Corid to their water again this morning. Our bossy chick Camilla was quite docile in my care earlier today; hopefully her spunk returns, as well as good health.

Good health cannot be overrated for chicks, and certainly not for us humans. Dear friends have been struggling for the last three months, as my pal Teri is back in hospital, where she has resided for much of the last ten weeks. Teri remains feisty, but her cognitive abilities are strained, and her spouse Anson is reaching the end of his emotional tether. They are the age my father would be had he lived, yet my husband and I view them not as parental substitutes. They are our contemporaries, as well as inadvertent guides on our aging journeys.

I sent out a prayer request to my sisters this morning concerning Teri and Anson, asking for love, support, and especially strength. Only now I realize I didn't seek healing, which might seem like a mistake, or perhaps I assumed they would add that to their intercessions. I would *LOVE* Teri to get better. Yet at this moment, healing is a luxury: Peace is paramount. Strength to endure another day of dwelling in a facility, being disconnected from one's own preferences, straining to discern all that physicians say; those are the immediate concerns. To merely sit in a hospital all day, watching one so beloved talk nonsense, becomes excruciating. All those years of togetherness have boiled down to something so unwanted and alien. Maintaining peace at this moment matters most.

Healing might emerge, and we will rejoice at that juncture if we are so blessed. For now heart and soul equilibrium is the biggest necessity. We don't get to choose how we arrive at the latter stages of our lives. Dignity and integrity matters for every person. Our right to live and how we conclude that journey is a fundamental right and vital to be championed. And that is where I am today.

Chicken post #3: To perch or not remains the question

 

Chick party tonight!

Chicks are pretty funny. One has earned a moniker for her behavior at the feeder; Camilla relentlessly roots out anyone near her slot, taking it back if someone manages to push her aside, and scratching while eating. My husband suggested the name when I mentioned that Camilla thought she was the new queen, but no one could take Queenie's place in my heart.

Lol.

We didn't plan to name any of them until personalities emerged, and Camilla takes the freaking CAKE for personality right now. The rest are figuring out their places in the pecking order, yet not a single one has managed to actually grasp the perch rungs, hah! They are starting to play under it, attempting to fly on top of it, a lot of wing-flapping this morning when I opened the brooder. A dear friend is visiting, who saw them last week, and she said they have grown! Which was good to hear because we think they're bigger, but we see them daily and other than a few tail feathers having sprouted, they seem about the same.

I woke at a stupid early hour today, yet that afforded me time to re-format three books for D2D. I'm pondering an Amazon release, but will check into that later, as I was too tired to ponder it at, um, four-something in the morning. I woke to a dream of one of my grandkids calling for help, certainly not a pleasant way to start the day, however I achieved some book work, and feel better about That Which Can Be Remembered being available with scene breaks. I'd have loved to deal with that before today, but right now chickens rule the roost.

One of these days they'll own their perch too, lol. In the meantime, I think I need another cuppa. Caffeinated please! 

Chicken post #2: RIP Queenie

So named for the dark gold tiara on her head, Queenie was a feisty and sweet chick, bless her!

It was bound to happen; we lost another chick last night, my beloved Queenie. She was fine early in the day, but became shy, staying under the heat plate that we've nicknamed Mama. No obvious malady was apparent, and after dinner my husband checked on the chicks, finding Queenie just past Mama, lying on the shavings, already in chick heaven.

Sigh....

Today's adventure was finding another chick suffering from suspicious poops. I diagnosed coccidiosis, then headed out for Corid so I could dose the entire flock. Was this what struck Queenie? Perhaps, but we'll never know as we didn't witness her eliminations. (Sorry if this is chick TMI.) For the next five days the chicks will drink water spiked with Corid, then have a two week break, with four more days of treatment to follow. The afflicted chick was out and about this evening, and I cleaned out under Mama, not wanting them to sleep in nasty poo. We'll keep the brooder as clean as possible for the next few days, and hopefully our remaining eight chicks will be fine.

I am *pretty tired*! I probably haven't been so geared to infant care since grandkids were arriving, lol! It's fun to watch chick antics, especially a large barnevelder who unscrupulously muscles other chicks from their spots at the feeder. Queenie held her own against this chick, who tonight my husband named Camilla, as I noted said chick THOUGHT she was the queen, but only Queenie would claim that moniker. He slyly mentioned Camilla, I smiled and nodded, and now one chick has her handle.

Yesterday this chick was studying the perch, planning a takeover!

And thus goes another day of my life! Right now it feels like all chickens, all the time. One finally figured out the little perch is for more than standing under; I bet tomorrow a couple will be calling it their future home, hehehe.

Chicken post #1

The original ten chicks. They never used the tap-waterers, so those are now gone, as is one of the gold chicks, sad face.

Been a busy few days, what with friends visiting, chickens arriving, and the reality that not all baby chicks survive into a third day.

A gold star chick who I call Queenie due to the tiara-shaped dark gold on her head. She's a very docile, sweet gal!

Aside from that last sobering truth, the rest of the weekend has been AWESOME! Chickens, dude, lol! They scurry from one edge of the brooder to another, to under the heat plate, then back out again. They napped for over two hours not long after we brought them home, so of course we fretted (needlessly) until they started peering out from the sides of the heat plate, then emerged into the brooder proper. Today they were active most of the day, scratching chick crumble out of the feeder, investigating the perimeter and finding interesting spots to peck. I held several (hopefully all of them, although five look very similar, so who knows), gently stroking their heads and speaking softly that they were good chickies, sweet chickies, and very loved. Yet despite the depth of our newfound affection, one didn't last the day. Part of life, I know, and hopefully tomorrow will brighter.

A barnevelder chick. They have adorable chipmunk markings on their backs.

I'm still working on fixing books, but chickens take a fair amount of time, and friends were a gracious gift all weekend! I taught a seven-year-old to sew Kawandi-style, and she took home a coaster and thread to finish her mug rug.

Before chicks, a trip to the Pacific occurred; always a thrill to see the ocean, and the sunshine too.

So yeah, first chicken post. Not the last. I'll probably hear peeping/twittering in my dreams, hehehe!  

D2D transition update

Just a quick post to inform readers that in the following books all line breaks indicating a change of scene within a chapter have been removed. I will address this issue ASAP, but in the meantime please accept my apology for the abrupt alterations within the novels listed.

Many thanks for your patience as I continue to grapple with moving from Smashwords to Draft2Digital.

 

A Love Story: The Enran Chronicles Book One

Life Stories: The Enran Chronicles Book Two

Far Away from Home: The Enran Chronicles Book Three

 

The Possibility of What If: That Which Can Be Remembered Book One

Gracious Mysteries: That Which Can Be Remembered Book Two

That Which Can Be Remembered: Series Conclusion